


Baby, We Could Be Enough

by JessCA1994



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break up sex, Canon Compliant, Exes to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Ending, Harry and Louis broke up but they can't stay away from each other, Hiatus era, Jealousy, Lot's of sex actually, M/M, Mention of stunts, Romance, Smut, Solo Louis, Top Harry, Top Louis, and lots of angst, because they share that really, solo harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 19:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessCA1994/pseuds/JessCA1994
Summary: Louis doesn’t seem to recall how or when it started going to shit, he just knew that it had. As much as he tries, he can’t figure out how they got to the point where all they were doing was fighting and arguing over the stupidest things. He doesn’t know when love stopped being enough.OR the one where Louis and Harry can really be enough.





	Baby, We Could Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I've been working on this fic for awhile now and it really means a lot to me. I got the idea, some months ago, talking to a mutual (who's identity I'm not going to reveal) who believes they broke up but they keep on meeting because they need each other. Now, I want to clarify I wrote this just because I wanted to and not because I believe this ever happened. I'm one of those who believes that Louis and Harry never broke up (or never had a big break up at least). And no, this doesn't mean I think their relationship it's all pink and fairy tales because I know it's not: I just happen to believe they've managed to work things out even in their rough times. I'd like to give an especial, enormus thanks to Coco (@AllTheLoveCoco) who patiently edited this for me, and to by beta Liz (@Dont_Stop_Larry) who beated this as well as many of my other fics.  
> I really hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

_I'm not strong enough to stay away_

_Can't run from you_

_I just run back to you_

_Like a moth I'm drawn in to your flame_

_You say my name, but it's not the same_

_You look in my eyes I'm stripped of my pride_

_And my soul surrenders and you bring my heart to it's knees_

 

_And it's killin' me when you're away_

_I wanna leave and I wanna stay_

_I'm so confused, so hard to choose_

_Between the pleasure and the pain_

_And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right_

_Even if I try to win the fight_

_My heart would overrule my mind_

_And I'm not strong enough to stay away_

 

Louis can feel his stomach twisting up in anguish and the nerves running through his veins. It’s been a month since they broke up, - he hasn’t seen him or spoken to him since, not even after the airport incident.  He says he’s fine when asked, and Louis says that he’s okay, but, if truth be told, he feels like shit because he misses Harry every single minute of every single day, and he’s so sad that even the simple act of breathing hurts.

They were fighting way too much and they both were hurting each other. They broke up before the public comeback of Eleanor and that first week was the most difficult: he cried almost every day. His trip to Jamaica with Eleanor was awful and pretending everything was alright and that he was living the happy life with her was even worse. On one of those days, he tweeted “Always” and he uploaded a picture to IG with the caption “You”. He knew fans were going to connect the dots instantly, but what’s more, he knew Harry was going to know it was for him, and that’s what he wanted. He wanted him to know that he was always going to be the one.

When he returned from Jamaica, everything really started going to hell. As if he hadn’t had enough shit to deal with already, when he arrived and landed at the airport, he fucking got arrested, and that was the cherry on the top for what had been an absolutely trashy week. One would think that he had the time of his life in Jamaica, laying on the beach all loved up and getting tan and relaxing. Well, he didn’t. It was horrible. 

Louis rings the bell and waits, twisting his fingers nervously, a habit he wishes he could shake. After what it feels like ages, Harry finally opens the door, and when he sees him, he can tell Harry's been crying, too. He knows him way too well not to notice his swollen and bloodshot eyes and bags beneath them - he knows the way Harry looks after he’s bawled his eyes out. He knows him too well not to know the shade of red his cheeks turn when he’s been sobbing.

Harry awkwardly waves him in - Louis had never have imagined he’d have to have Harry’s permission to enter this house, but here they were. They stand there for a while, uncomfortable silence filling up the room.

“Uhm…I packed your stuff so you didn’t have to, ” Harry finally says, and Louis can see the boxes sitting next to kitchen table. It hits Louis then, the reality of their situation as it stands, and his chest tightens, because this is really happening - they are really moving on from each other.

“Oh, thanks you - you didn’t have to,” Louis replies, trying to keep his voice from breaking. Harry notices and takes a step forward, his face the picture of concern.

 “Are you okay?” he asks in the soft voice that Louis had come accustomed to over the years, but now sounded almost foreign to his ears. Louis wants to laugh, because it’s so obvious that he’s not in any way okay, but he’s not in the mood to fight.

“I will be. I have to be.” He smiles numbly.

“Okay, so …” Harry starts saying. “Uhm - I hope you do great in your life, Lou. And I hope, uhm, that your dreams really come true, because you really, uhm, deserve and even-even if—”

Louis takes a step forward and crushes his mouth against Harry’s. If they’re going to break up, he’s at least gonna say goodbye in the proper way - he’s gonna be with him one last time if it kills him. He’s not gonna end an almost seven year relationship with a shitty goodbye.

He pushes Harry against the wall and kisses him roughly, eagerly, trying to taste him as much as he can, trying to drown his pain. But drowning the pain is difficult when Harry very nearly melts into his arms, letting Louis kiss him. He manages to undress Harry with shaking hands, as fast as he can. His mind knows he should be doing this in a slow way, enjoying their last time, but all he wants is to be inside Harry as soon as possible. 

He drags Harry into the bedroom and doesn’t waste time in sucking bruises all over his body. His mouth finds itself on Harry, sucking in his cheeks hard as Harry lets out a deep throated moan, and he opens him up blindly, his nose inches from the hair dusting Harry’s groin. Harry groans again, louder, and that pushes Louis to keep going, wanting to hear his pretty moans one last time. When he has three fingers inside him, Harry begs him to fuck him, and he obliges without question. He lines himself up and pushes his cock inside, making Harry shiver under him, a trembling mess as he always was, even after years of sex with Louis. Louis breathes against Harry’s lips as he starts increasing his speed, mouthing at Harry’s mouth and biting down his lip. Harry starts moaning louder and grips into Louis’ arms when he reaches his orgasm. Louis can feel Harry’s come against his belly, dripping all over his skin and then he’s coming inside Harry. It hits him again, harder this time - this was their last time. They really were saying goodbye this time.

Louis doesn’t seem to recall how or when it started going to shit, he just knew that it had. As much as he tries, he can’t figure out how they got to the point where all they were doing was fighting and arguing over the stupidest things. He doesn’t know when love stopped being enough.  

 

* * *

 

It’s been a month since Louis last saw Harry, and he thinks that, little by little, he’s somehow getting better. He’s working on his new album and he’s been hanging around with Calvin, Oli, Niall, and even Liam. He still thinks about Harry a lot, especially at night when he has to sleep alone. He still misses him, more than he’s missed anybody before, but at least he can keep his mind busy with other stuff. Writing had always been a therapeutic process, and it’s helping him a lot, although sometimes it scares him a bit because he is pouring all his soul in his new lyrics.

The last three days were a little bit rougher, though, as Harry’s new song _Sweet Creature_ was about to drop. It was one of the few Harry had never let him hear, and he’d be lying if he said he is not dying to hear it. He’d be lying even more if he said he wasn’t nervous about it. Just like him, Harry is someone who always poured his soul into what he wrote, whether it was cryptic or not. So yeah, Louis is kind of terrified.

He arrives home after his photoshoot - that had helped ease his mind for a bit - and sits on the couch with his computer in front of him, twisting his fingers together. He knows some people already leaked it, but he wants to hear the song properly, so he waits, staring at the screen like he’s in some sort of trance. As soon as the song starts playing and he hears the first chords of the guitar, his heart starts beating faster, and when he hears Harry’s soft voice singing, _Sweet creature / Had another talk about where it's going wrong / But we're still young / We don't know where we're going / But we know where we belong_ , Louis can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He tries not to cry, he _really_ does, but as soon as the chorus is finished and he listens him say that he always brings him home, he loses any control he had. Louis starts sobbing, his whole body shaking, the pain too much and too real to handle. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get why Harry would release a song like that when they broke up. He doesn’t get why life is so unfair and why it is impossible for him to have a happy ending with the love of his life, with the person he loves the most. Harry’s voice, which would normally soothe him and make him feel better, is only making the pain worse. Harry telling him that he will always love him, no matter how stubborn they are, leaves him breathless. Louis doesn’t know how much more he continues to cry after he’s heard the song. What he does know, however, is that he needs to talk to Harry and as soon as possible.

He knows Harry’s London now, and he doesn’t think he can go another minute without talking to him about this. He swallows his pride, grabs his phone, and does what he has been telling himself he shouldn’t - he texts him for the first time in a month.

 **Need to talk to you,** he types, and waits a few seconds before pressing send.

He sees the notification that Harry is writing back and his heart jumps into his throat, but after a while, the notification disappears. He sighs and stares at his screen, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach. Finally, Harry’s reply comes through.

**Okay. I can come over if you want.**

Louis stares at the message, feeling his heart rise to an inhuman speed. He shouldn’t be getting this nervous after all this time, yet here he is, feeling like a teenager talking to his ex.

**Be here at evening.**

**Ok.** he answers

Louis doesn’t know how he manages to wait until noon without losing his shit. He’s so nervous, his legs won’t stop shaking and he actually showers twice to try to calm himself down. After that, he tries to sleep for a bit, but he gives up when he realizes he’s just staring up at the ceiling. He walks into the kitchen and makes himself a coffee, turning on a movie in a last attempt to calm the nerves bubbling up inside him.

When the clock on his phone hits 7:02, the doorbell rings. He stands up, palms sweating, and when he opens the door, Harry steps in. He looks even more beautiful than the last time, if that’s even possible. His hair has grown a bit and he has it pulled back. The silky shirt he’s wearing hangs half open, the birds on his chest and the top of his butterfly exposed, his cross necklace settled right between the birds.Complete with a black blazer and tight, dark jeans, he looks just as amazing as he always had, maybe even better. Louis doesn’t think he will ever get used to Harry’s beauty.

Louis doesn’t know how to greet him. He doesn’t know if he should go in for a handshake or a hug or if he should just awkwardly say hello, so he’s thankful when Harry takes a step forward and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. When he does, Harry’s scent fills his nostrils, and he has to order himself not to whimper. 

“Uhm, do you want a cuppa?” Louis asks, unsure of what else he could say.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replies, and Louis can hear his boots hitting the floor with every step as Louis leads him to the kitchen. The sound brings all the memories he’d spent the last month trying to bury right to the surface of his mind.

They stand in silence as Louis boils the water and prepares the tea, and it makes Louis fidgety. He doesn’t like silence, never has, but when it’s with Harry, it’s almost more painful.

As he hands Harry the cup of tea, he stares at him.“I’ve listened to Sweet Creature.”

Harry nods and takes a sip of his drink. “Did you like it?” he asks, his green eyes fixed on Louis. Louis wants to say that he did, that the loved it, that it was beautiful and he should have expected nothing less, but none of that come out of his mouth.

“I don’t get you, Harry.” Louis shakes his head. “How can I still be your Sweet Creature...how can I bring you home when we aren’t together anymore?” He laughs humorlessly, trying to hide the fact that he is about to cry. Harry leaves his cup of tea on the counter and takes a step closer to Louis. Louis looks up at him as Harry chews on his bottom lip.

“Because no matter what, even if we aren’t together anymore, you will always be the one, Lou. Doesn’t matter if we’re in the same house or a thousand miles away - you’ll always be my one and only home.”

 “Fuck,” Louis whispers, trying not to completely lose it. “Fuck, fuck. You just can’t tell me that, Harry. You can’t just say things like that to me.”

“It’s the truth, though,” Harry replies, showing he has no regrets of saying what he just said. “Just like you also know I’m always going to be the one for you. Just like you made sure that I knew that with Always You.”

“Fuck,” Louis sighs again, knowing Harry is right, knowing they feel exactly the same thing, and that in it of itself is what makes it even more frustrating, because even if they love each other, they can’t find a way to work their shit out.

Louis rubs at his eyes, brushing away the few tears that had managed to escape his eyes, but as he lowers his hand, Harry catches it and turns it over, his touch gentle. He stares at Louis’ hand, and Louis watches as the corners of his mouth turn down in a frown.

“So you did get the tattoo,” he whispers, his voice breaking just a little. Louis figures Harry probably saw the pap pictures from Coachella and the picture his media account manager posted for him the day before. He doesn’t seem mad, though - he just looks broken. “I hate it, you know. Tattoos were our thing.”

Louis lifts up his head to meet Harry’s eyes. “They still are. This doesn't mean anything, Harry. I hate it, too.” Louis replies.

Harry chews his lip some more before reaching out his hand to ghost his fingers over Louis’ dagger tattoo. “I’ve always loved this one. I remember how crazy people went you got it.” Louis stares at him, gulping as Harry’s long fingers drift over his skin, unable to say a word. Harry then grabs his right wrist and lifts it up. “And this one...well, this one always meant so much to me,” he adds, tracing Louis’ rope tattoo with his thumb, looking down at it. “Especially because it’s next to this one,” he whispers, tracing his finger over the quote mark tattoo on Louis’ inner wrist. It makes Louis shiver. Harry lifts up his gaze and his eyes meet Louis’.

He doesn’t know who moves first, he doesn’t know who kisses who, but it’s hungry and it’s desperate and Louis doesn’t have any desire to pull away. Harry’s hands are cupping his cheeks as he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, and Louis clings to him, needing to be close. He’s intoxicated by the flavor of Harry, the smell of Harry, everything about Harry. This had not been his plan - this was not where their talk was supposed to go, but Harry’s lips are on him, rough and needy, and Louis can’t stop.

Louis kisses Harry harder, biting at his bottom lip just like he knows Harry likes. When they end up in bed, he doesn’t stop Harry from kissing all over his body. He doesn’t stop Harry when he opens him up, slowly and teasingly, nearly driving him right over the edge. He doesn’t stop Harry when he flips him over effortlessly onto his stomach and buries his face in between his ass cheeks, licking a fat stripe over his hole. His tongue feels so hot and heavy and insistent and it makes him dizzy. Louis moans and Harry pushes his tongue in harder, making Louis bury his face in the pillow to drown his screams, before ascending with a trail of wet kisses all across his back from the bottom of his spine to base of his neck. 

“I want to fuck you,” Harry slurs into his ear. Louis shivers, and the only thing he can do in response is nod eagerly. Harry gets Louis on his hands and knees, Louis allowing Harry to get him in position. He has always loved the way Harry manhandled him with so much ease, and the way he is controlling his body right now was making him painfully hard.

Harry presses his chest against Louis’ back and takes him from behind, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist and holding him by the shoulder with the other. Louis can feel Harry’s heartbeat against his back. Harry starts thrusting and Louis can feel the orgasm bubbling up in his belly already. Louis mewls and whimpers, sweat covering his forehead and running down his temple.

“I’m so close, Harry,” he nearly cries, and Harry bites into his shoulder and runs his hand down Louis’ stomach to wrap it around his cock. Louis comes instantly in Harry’s hand and collapses into the mattress.. With a couple more thrusts, Harry comes inside him, riding it out with loud pants and small whines. In the back of his mind, Louis knows that what they just did is crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care now.

 He doesn’t even bat an eyelash when Harry stands up to get dressed. He just accompanies him to the door and swallows thickly when Harry tells him that he meant every single word.  

 

* * *

 

It’s only five days after that when Louis goes to Harry’s, furious. He technically has no right to be angry when he is stunting himself, but he saw the pap pics of Harry with that girl - Tess, if he remembered correctly - in the car, and a boiling rage filled him to a point where he couldn’t just sit in his own home and wallow in his own jealousy. Louis was mad at everything - he was mad at himself for getting angry, he was mad at Jeff for always picking the worst kind of girls for Harry to fake date, he was mad at the girl because he hates the smug look on her face, even in just three grainy pictures, and he was mad at Harry for reasons he couldn’t even explain.

When Harry opens the door, shirtless, he looks surprised, clearly not expecting Louis to be standing there. Louis eyes go directly to the darkness of the ink splattered across his chest, and he feels his stomach lurch. He storms inside without asking to come in.

“Who the fuck is the girl?” Louis growls.

“Hello, Louis. I’m fine, thanks for asking, how are you?” Harry says in a teasing voice, which only makes Louis angrier.

“I asked you a question.”

“I think you know who she is, Lou,” Harry says blandly, closing the door behind Louis and turning to face him, his face blank.

“Is she your new beard?”

“Maybe, but what’s it to you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re angry,” Harry observes, quirking his eyebrows. It’s not a question. 

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!” Louis spits out, his fists clenching at his sides.

A smirk, so subtle Louis almost misses it, plays on Harry’s lips. Louis doesn’t understand _why_ is Harry is being so casual about this, why he looks like he might actually be enjoying Louis’ anger, but it’s only making him more furious.

“You don’t have to worry. I don’t think she’s going to last long,” Harry says. 

“Shut up, Harry,” Louis snaps.

“Lou-”

“I mean it, Harry, just shut up!” Louis yells, pushing Harry against the wall. Now Harry does smirk. Harry has always liked it a little rough.

“She says she’s a chef but she’s a terrible cook, you know? She apparently cooks all this healthy stuff, but I’ve tried some and it tastes really horrible,” Harry says conversationally, his smirk growing. Louis knows Harry is trying to get a rise out of him, but he can’t turn off his feelings. He can’t just stop being angry.

“Harry, stop it,” Louis warns him. Harry licks his lips.

“You would hate it too, I bet. I can cook much better than she does. Well, I can actually cook, to start with.”

“Shut. Up.” Louis repeats, clenching his jaw.

Harry smirks again, defying him. He pushes off the wall and walks Louis backwards, not stopping until he’s right in front of Louis, up close and personal. Louis can feel his breath, hot against his face.

“Make me,” Harry slurs, and that’s what does it. Louis crushes his mouth into Harry’s and feels him smiling against his lips, smug. He doesn’t waste time, sliding his hand under the waist of Harry’s trackies and getting a hand on his cock, stroking it and making Harry hiss into his mouth. Louis ends up shagging him in the kitchen, over the table because they are way too desperate to actually get into the bedroom. When he leaves the house, he actually tries to understand why the fuck he just did that, but he has no logical answer to his question.

 

* * *

 

When Harry’s album is released, Louis listens to it with a bottle of wine and sobs his eyes out, and when he’s done crying, he texts Harry. Some days later, they meet privately for coffee in LA to talk about it. Louis tells him how proud he is of him and that he loved it, and Harry is thankful for that. Louis already knows which songs are for him, which one is for Eleanor, which ones are about the way he sees the world, and which ones are just for fun, so they don’t really talk about that. They just end up fucking in the toilet.

The rest of May and the whole month of June go more of less the same. If they’re in the same city, they end up texting each other and asking to meet. Everytime they do, they end up having sex or giving each other bowjobs. Louis doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Sometimes he tries to stop himself from texting Harry. Sometimes, he really does give himself a pep talk:, he tells himself that it won’t happen this time, that he won’t let it, but it’s actually difficult, especially when he sees Tess doing something extra. The problem is that, even when he’s not the one who texts first, Harry will text him, and that’s when he really can’t say no, that’s when he really doesn’t want to say no. It’s a never ending cycle. 

Most of the time they have rough sex - it’s primal, almost animalistic. But sometimes, they take it slow, letting their bodies move at their own pace. Sometimes they just explore each other’s bodies like it’s the first time and get lost in each other under the sheets, ignoring the silent tears rolling down their cheeks. Louis thinks he prefers it rough, because then he doesn’t have time to think about how much he misses Harry.

The truth is that when Louis wrote _Back To You_ , he didn’t write it especially with Harry in mind, but now with all that’s happening, he feels like the lyrics apply to them very much. He knows that what he’s doing isn’t healthy for either of them, and he knows that it’s crazy, but he can’t help it. He always finds himself going back to Harry. He doesn’t seem able to get away from him.

They never actually sleep side by side, though. When they started all this madness of exes fucking, they agreed on not spending the night together. It would be the better for both of them that way. Louis regretted this sometimes, though, because somewhere deep inside him, he wanted it, and he had the thought that, if he ever asked Harry to stay, he just might.

But he didn’t let it happen - whoever visited who would leave almost immediately after sex. They would always dress in silence, respecting a sort of unspoken code, and leave without saying anything until the next time.

Louis walks in silence after having left Harry’s house for the third time that month. He feels sticky and the heat of the night is not helping at all. Walking alone isn’t helping him to rid himself of the half-formed hopeful ideas that were spinning around in his head.

When he arrives home, he takes a quick shower and then lays down on his bed, hands behind his head. He stares up at the ceiling, asking himself over and over again how he managed to let himself get to this point.

 

* * *

 

Louis thanks the heavens that Oli is with them now, because honestly, he’s about to rip his hair out in frustration. As if his trip with Eleanor to Jamaica hadn’t been enough, now he’s in Amsterdam with her. Amsterdam was always his and Harry’s place, and they were actually making him go there with Eleanor to celebrate her birthday. Well, something had to fit into the Always You narrative.

The thing is, if Louis is going to be trapped in one of his favorite cities with a person he can’t fucking stand, he’s at least going to take advantage of it. It’s Eleanor birthday, which means they have to go out and be seen, but Louis, being the little shit he is, takes her and Oli to a gay bar. _The_ gay bar, on the gayest avenue of Amsterdam. He smirks the entire time they’re walking down the street, knowing people will pick up on it. He doesn’t have a single regret. In his mind, if he’s going to be forced to be seen in public in what was probably the most tragic outfit since their starting days, he was going to do it his way. Fuck Simon and his stupid fucking narrative.

It’s his last day Amsterdam when he hears Harry’s interview on BBC Radio 1. He chuckles at the heart rate monitor thing, laughing at the questions Nick asks him. But the moment he asks Harry about Camille Rowe, he knows what’s coming. He knows how this kind of thing works - you work them in in some random conversation, and the next thing you know, you have a whole backstory and you’ve been dating for ages. He snaps.

“Fuck this shit,” he screams as he grabs the ashtray on the table in front of him and smashes it against the wall, porcelain shredding into little pieces.

Oli looks at him with a worried expression but doesn't say a word. Eleanor, who is lounging in his room why? he doesn’t know-, just rolls her eyes. As if she ever cared what Louis was doing or how he was feeling as long as she got paid. Fuck her.

Louis knows this means Camille Rowe is going to be Harry’s next beard, and he already knows enough about her from industry talk to know that she’s going to be the worst one of all. He already hated Camille because of how disgusting she is, and he very clearly remembers the pictures and videos she used to tag Harry in. Now he hates her with every fiber in his body. He lights up another cigarette and takes a long drag, and once he finishes it, he gets up and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

The rest of July is a fucking mess. He is at least a little happy because Back To You is out, and it does really good on the charts - his fans seem to love it. The promo starts off good and he enjoys performing the song with Bebe, who is a wonderful girl. They ask him lots of questions about the guys and Harry’s acting in Dunkirk, and he has to pretend everything is okay. Normally, it would have been difficult, because he would have to pretend he didn’t have anything with Harry. This time, it’s difficult because he has to pretend that everything is not upside down. He still means every word, though. He has watched Harry’s interviews and he is in fact very proud of him. He is really happy that he got to act with Tom Hardy in a Christopher Nolan movie, and he did congratulate him about Dunkirk, but now he can’t escape from thoughts of Harry by throwing himself into his work, because every interview he went to, all the interviewers could seem to talk about was how great Harry had done in the movie. Louis didn’t disagree, but it kept him in a permanently tense state. The cherry on top of the fantastically horrible promo run is his interview with Dan Wooton, the fucking douche, who forces him to deny Larry once again. Later, when he watches it back, he understands why people call him a terrible liar.

 

* * *

 

The lights of the nightclub are blinding. He doesn’t know why he even agreed to go there in the first place, but his friends told him he needed to relax, and he thought it might be a good idea. Now, however, he regrets it completely, but he has to get Harry out of his system. He needs to stop this mess they have going on, and he’s convinced that maybe the best way of doing it is to get himself someone to shag. He starts dancing next to Calvin and Oli, whiskey their poison of choice. Louis always hated whiskey, but it got him drunk and numbed him just the right amount.

It’s an exclusive nightclub, no paps allowed, a place celebrities usually go to relax, let loose and not be seen, so he’s not afraid of what may happen. He just closes his eyes and tries to lose himself in the music.

He suddenly feels someone wrapping their arms around his waist, so he leans his back against the man’s chest and tries to get lost in the feeling. The dude spins him around and kisses him, and Louis kisses him back, not feeling anything. He quickly gets dragged into the toilets and is smashed against the wall, but as soon as the taller dude starts kissing him harder, the only thing he can think about is how wrong it feels. Every thought in his head is reminding him how these arms don’t belong to Harry and how he’d rather be kissing Harry instead. The man - he doesn’t even know his name - starts kissing down his neck, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of Louis. This is wrong, this is all wrong.

“Stop!” Louis urges, and to his surprise, the man actually stops, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

“What?”

“Stop, I don’t want this.”

“What the fuck? And you waited until just now to tell me?” He stands up, his voice rising in anger.

“It’s not that complicated, mate. I thought I wanted it, now I realize I don’t.”

“Fuck off,” the man spits, leaving him in the toilets alone.

Louis closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. He leaves the nightclub without telling his friends.

 

* * *

 

The next day, he goes to New York - with Eleanor, and it just so happens that Harry is there as well, with Camille. Fucking great. At this point, the gods must be playing a prank on him. He has always had a love hate relationship with the city and right now, he thinks it’s much more of a hate. He’s so tired - everything is rubbing him the wrong way.

He’s laying in his suite, watching tv alone in just his briefs, just being grateful that he doesn’t have to spend any more time with Eleanor; she got her own suite, since she was being paid to be photographed and Louis refused to share a room with her.

The whole situation has him exhausted. He’s just done with everything. He supposes he should be more pleased - his songs are doing relatively well and he’s been doing several photoshoots at once, but he wishes they weren’t perpetuating an image that wasn’t him at all. He wants to be himself. He wishes he could dress the way he loves to dress, and he wishes he could hang around with whoever he wants to.

When someone knocks at the door, Louis already knows who it is. He opens it and Harry steps in without asking, striding across the room and turning to face Louis. He looks serious. And angry. Louis is confused until Harry finally speaks.

“You went there with her?” he says, looking at him. Louis blinks, not quite sure what he’s talking about. “You went to _Amsterdam_ with _Eleanor._ Amsterdam is _our_ place, Louis. How many more things that are ours will you taint with her existence, huh?”

Louis folds his arms and steps into the room, kicking the door shut. “Do you think I had any choice?”

Harry walks back across the room, grabs Louis by the shoulders, and spins him to pin him against the wall. Louis laughs at the irony, because he can’t believe this. He can’t believe this is happening.

“I don’t fucking care if you didn’t have a choice, Amsterdam is our place!”

“Well, yeah, well while I was in Amsterdam, taking my beard to a _gay bar_ , by the way, I actually had to witness the birth of your new beard, Harry. Fucking Camille. Now you’re here with her, in a place that used to be special to us, so you can fuck right off!”

“This is not about Camille!” Harry says, nearly screaming. Louis has only seen Harry this angry twice before, and he’s a little nervous now. “This is about Eleanor thinking she can take these things away from us. This is about me having to see you there with her and not be able to do a damn thing about it!” Harry presses his thigh against Louis’ crotch, pulling an involuntary whimper out of Louis. “You don’t get to shut me up about this. You will listen to what I have to say,” Harry growls, and the tone of his voice makes Louis shiver, his pants feeling suddenly tight.

He knows the moment Harry notices. He notices in the way his pupils blow bigger, even in the dim light. He notices it in Harry’s throat bobbing as he swallows - his mouth must have gone dry. Harry doesn’t say a word, he just kisses him, their tongues meeting before their lips. Louis presses his whole body against Harry’s, covering him and feeling Harry’s hands running through his hair, pulling it softly but firmly at the same time. The pain makes Louis hiss into Harry’s mouth, but he loves it.

Harry nips at Louis’ lower lip before breaking the kiss and staring at him. His eyes look almost black now and Louis feels painfully hard. Louis shudders as Harry runs his index and middle fingers up Louis’ naked chest, all the way up until his fingertips are resting on Louis’ lips. Harry applies pressure, pushing his fingers past Louis’ lips and meeting his teeth. Louis knows what he wants.

“Suck,” Harry orders without breaking eye contact, so Louis obliges. He opens his lips and sucks Harry’s long fingers into his mouth.

Harry doesn't say anything as he drags his fingers away from Louis’ mouth, reaching behind Louis and slipping a hand into his pants. Louis waits for Harry’s fingers to reach his hole, for Harry to realize that Louis is already open. He’d fingered himself like crazy until he came not so long ago.

“Who did you think of while doing this?” he asks darkly, pushing two fingers in. Louis lets out a high pitched moan and grabs for some part of Harry’s solid body to steady him, his knees already feeling weak. 

“You already know the answer,” Louis says, his voice higher than usual.

“Say it.” Harry orders, pushing the fingers deeper, and Louis gasps, nearly buckling. 

“Of you. I thought of you.” Louis closes his eyes.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Harry says softly, and then he’s kissing Louis again, a sloppy kiss that makes Louis feel wonderfully dirty. Harry somehow manages to rid both himself and Louis of their pants, and before Louis can say or do anything, Harry is lifting him and making him sit on his dick. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and waits until Harry is fully inside him. Louis can feel himself clenching around Harry as Harry fucks him roughly against the wall.

Harry fucks him hard and long, and after only a few minutes, comes inside Louis. The sensation has Louis shouting Harry’s name as he shoots all over Harry’s chest and, exhausted, they both collapse onto the rough carpet, panting hard and staring at the ceiling. That’s when it hits Louis … what they’re doing is crazy, and in fact, dangerous.

“Harry…” he says slowly. “Uhm, are you sleeping with anybody else?”

Harry turns his head to look at him. “Why do you want to know?”

“It’s just…listen, we are literally barebacking. I think it would be prudent to know, if, well…”

Harry sighs. “I tried to. You know, tried to see what would happen. Never could get past a couple kisses. It never felt right. I did sleep with a girl, once … Like, literally, sleep, because I didn’t want to sleep alone. So we didn’t do anything, we didn’t even kiss. She just laid next to me and she left the next day after breakfast.” Louis heart sinks in his chest. Not because he is mad, but because he realizes that Harry is just as fucked up as he is. “Are you?” Harry’s voice drops, becoming vulnerable, and Louis fees his throat tighten. 

“No. Tried to as well, but I couldn’t do it.”

Harry just nods and doesn’t say anything, and they just lay there for a few more minutes before Harry stands up and starts to get dressed. 

“Am I going to see you again? You know, while we’re both, uhm, in the city?” Harry asks into the silence, and Louis finally sits up.

“Yeah, why not?” Louis says with a shrug of his shoulders, and Harry actually smiles, his dimple coming to life in his cheek. Louis feels his own cheeks start to warm up and he looks away, getting to his feet and pulling on his briefs.

“Fantastic. You should come tomorrow to my hotel room. I have a Jacuzzi there.” Harry smiles and leans in, brushing his lips against Louis’ in a way that had Louis’ stomach fluttering. He watches Harry leave and then just stares at the closed door.

Louis does go to see Harry the following day, and Harry rides him until he feels like he may pass out. They meet all the other days they stay in NYC too, after doing fanservice and after doing what they need to with Eleanor and Camille respectively.

Louis ends up loving his trip to New York.

 

* * *

 

Louis doesn’t speak much to Harry over the days following New York, other than a text here and there, but when he sees that Camille is in Harry’s hometown with him, he just snaps. He gets so angry that he feels it in his veins and sees red. So he calls him, not giving a fuck about where he is, and when he’s sent to voicemail, he tells Harry he needs to see him when he gets back to London. He doesn't enjoy his trip to Vegas. He spends all day checking his phone, seeing if new pictures of Harry and Camille pop up online like the masochist he is. He ignores Oli and Calvin when they tell him he should stop checking what Harry does, missing Stan and his advice. He loves Oli and Calvin, but sometimes their advice is shit.

The three days until Harry comes back from Cheshire go painfully slow, and when he arrives, he texts Louis that he’s on his way.

Louis opens the door as soon as Harry rings the bell. He doesn’t even wait for him to say hello, doesn’t give him time to enter the house properly. He’s done.

“What the fuck was Camille doing in Holmes Chapel?” Louis snaps, and Harry’s eyes widen.

“What?” Harry walks past Louis and Louis slams the door behind him, moving into the kitchen and turning to face Harry, his fists clenched at his sides.

“You know what I’m talking about, Harry, why the fuck was she there?” he asks again, and his voice cracks, but he just can’t do it. He can’t cope with the idea of Camille speaking to Harry’s family, being near all the things Harry cherished from his childhood.

“So I came here fresh off a plane after you asked me to come the moment I arrived, and this is what you want to talk about?” he replies, eyebrows raised in what seemed to be amusement. It did nothing to soothe Louis’ temper.

“Just answer my fucking question!”

“Because I’m supposed to be dating her, and I was told to bring there so she could meet”- he does the quotes gesture when he says meet-“my family? Just like you’re supposed to be dating Eleanor, Louis.” Harry replies.

“It’s not the same fucking thing!” Louis yells, even though he knows it is. He knows Harry’s right, but it’s his jealousy and anger speaking. He can’t help it. He’s so angry he just wants to fight, even when he knows he has no right to.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Louis, I can’t count the amount of times that I saw Danielle and Eleanor in your home, with your siblings, pretending to be the perfect family. So you don’t get to say this to me, you don’t get to try to make me feel guilty about something that’s not my fault.”

“It’s not the same.”

“It is, and you know it. You’re just being fucking childish, like you always are,” Harry replies, jaw clenched. Louis flinches - that was a low blow.

“Fuck you, Harry! It’s not the same, it isn’t! You know I can’t fucking stand either of them! You, on the other hand, seem to be enjoying yourself when she’s around. When she’s there and that little group of yours you always hang around with.” He spits out every word and sees the way Harry’s eyes flicker in pain, but Louis is too angry to feel guilty about it.

“Me? Enjoy her?! Are you fucking kidding me? You know I hate her. It’s not my fault that I’m a better actor than you are, Louis. It’s not my fault that you’re angry at me for doing the same kind of stunts you have to do yourself. _Especially_ when you have to pretend to have a baby with one woman and actually have a tattoo for another one of your fake girlfriends. The same girlfriend that used to kiss you in front of me just for fun, the same one you took to Amsterdam, to our place, after all the damage she’s done to us.”  

“Stop,” Louis warns him while rubbing the tattoo on his hand - he can’t believe Harry actually brought it up.

“Oh, but you do, don’t you?” Harry hisses “You have her initial marked on your hand.”

In that moment, Louis can’t help but remembering the fight they had over that stupid letter months ago, how destroyed Harry looked when he first saw it, the way his eyes had no sparkle in them as he looked down at the ink marking Louis’ hand.

“Shut the fuck up, Harry.”

“Let me get this straight then. You get to be angry at Camille being at my hometown, but if I get mad about your ugly ass E tattoo or about her being in Amsterdam with you, then I’m in the wrong?” He laughs humorlessly.

And Louis is so close to losing it, because Harry knows how much he hates that tattoo, he knows how much he tries to hide it, how horrible it is to him to have that letter inked on his body. He knows that the map of his love to Harry is now tainted by one letter and he hates it.

 “You do see how unfair that is coming from you, right?” Harry asks, but Louis doesn’t answer. He just stares at Harry, jaw clenched. Harry huffs, annoyed. “You do see that we’re doing the same exact shit?”

“I hate you,” Louis spits, but Harry shakes his head, curls bouncing. 

“No, you don’t,” Harry answers, his voice low and quiet.

“I hate you!” Louis repeats, as if saying that out loud again would make it true, as if screaming that would make him believe his own lie. It isn’t working.

“No, you don’t. You know that’s not true,” Harry says again, his green eyes burning holes in Louis’ blue ones. Louis walks towards Harry and shoves him backwards.

“Yes, I do! I hate you with every bone in my body,” he screams as he slams his fists against Harry’s chest.. Harry doesn’t stop him, and Louis keeps going, his anger getting the better of him. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate-” he yells, and then, before he can’t even proper finish his sentence, he pulls Harry in by his t-shirt and slams his mouth against his. He kisses him roughly. “I hate you,” he slurs, his tongue trying to gain entry into Harry’s mouth.

“No, you don’t” Harry mumbles as he mouths at Louis’ jaw, walking him backwards until his back hits the wall. Louis whimpers when he feels Harry’s mouth on the thin skin of his neck, biting and sucking and leaving a mark like he always loved to do.

Louis knows he should stop this. He knows that this is only going to make things worse, that this will only make everything more difficult. But he can’t stop it, not when he needs Harry like he needs air, not when fucking him after the break up has become the drug he’s addicted to. So he lets Harry continue, he lets Harry bite him, lets Harry mark him. He lets Harry carry him to bed, pin him against the mattress, tangling their hands above his head. He lets Harry fuck him, fast and rough, hips snapping furiously as he tries to drive himself deeper and deeper into him. Louis lets Harry take him apart. He lets him pant into his mouth all the things he wants to do to him, he lets Harry drive him to his orgasm. He lets Harry come inside him as he wraps his legs around his waist, holding onto his body, scratching down his back as moans and whimpers filled the silence of the room.

He doesn’t know how much time goes by, but Louis finds himself staring at the ceiling, trying to recover from the _petite mort_ he just had. Lately, sex with Harry has become almost too intense, way too much for him to handle properly, and yet he still can’t quit it. He lives for ending up in bed with Harry, even when he knows it’s not healthy. He waits for those moments all week, all month.

Louis sighs and rubs his eyes before turning his head to watch Harry, who’s getting out of the bed to put his clothes on. He stares at him, blinking, knowing he shouldn’t say what he is about to, knowing that this is a terrible, terrible idea, but he can’t help it. He’s already in way too deep, and he’s already broken the promise he made to himself plenty of times. If truth be told, he stopped caring long time ago about doing the right thing, because now all he needs is Harry. He can’t stay away from him. He’s realized this, no matter how much he tries to stop himself from doing this, he always ended up back in Harry’s arms. At this point, he is not even sure he wants this to stop. If he can’t have Harry as a proper boyfriend, he can at least be close to him, be fucked by him and able to fuck him, to kiss him and sink his teeth into his lips, to let his lips explore every inch of Harry’s body, and he wants Harry to do the same to him. He wants all that. And now he wants more.

Harry has already put his briefs on, and his arm is halfway through the sleeve of his pink shirt when Louis speaks. 

“Stay,” Louis lets out in an urgent whisper. Harry stops what he is doing and looks at him in silence. “Please…stay,” Louis says again.

“Lou...” Harry breathes out, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Louis can see him visibly gulp. “When we started doing this, we said we were not going to stay after ...”

“I know what we said but … fuck, just stay, Haz, please.” Harry bites down on his bottom lip, looking unsure. “Please. I need you to stay,” Louis whispers, his voice sounding broken even to his own ears.

Harry doesn’t break eye contact. He stays silent for a moment, breathing in and out, and Louis is afraid of what Harry may say. He’s afraid of the rejection - even if it  would be the most logical thing, it would also destroy him. Finally, Harry sighs and nods. “Okay, I’ll stay.” Louis can’t ignore the way his heart jumps inside his chest as Harry strips back down  again and slips under the sheets, right next to Louis.

“Thanks,” Louis whispers, but doesn’t dare to touch him. Harry only nods, then they fall asleep side by side.

In the middle of the night, Louis wakes up, and he doesn’t know when or how Harry ended up curled around his body, but his head and one of his hands are on Louis’ chest, and one of Harry’s legs is tangled around his own. He stares down at him, watches the way Harry breathes while sleeping, and he feels a warmth radiating through his body. Louis, again, knows he shouldn’t do what he’s about to do next. He silences his inner voice and he tangles his fingers through Harry’s hair before wrapping his arms around him, feeling the heat of his body as he slowly falls back to sleep.

He wakes up to a cold and empty bed, and he tells himself he shouldn’t feel this disappointed when he knew it was going to be like this. He was never really rational though, and a small, disappointed sigh escapes him as he scratches the back of his neck. He ignores the hole in his chest and sits on the mattress, staring at nothing in particular. He turns his head and freezes, seeing Harry’s clothes still on his floor. Maybe he was going crazy.

He hurries to put his underwear on, and as he starts walking down the stairs, he can hear the sound of the frying pan and Harry’s voice humming. He walks into the kitchen and stares at Harry, who is standing by the stove top, frying some eggs and bacon. Louis clears his throat and Harry lifts his head, curls askew and eyes wide.

“Oh, uhm, hi. I was making you breakfast, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Louis smiles and walks up to him to give him a kiss. He doesn’t even think about it and goes for it, and Harry melts into the kiss. They kiss each other slowly, lips sliding sloppily against each other, sweet and tender. When Harry smiles into the kiss, Louis is pretty sure he melts a little inside. 

They have breakfast while watching TV, and at some point they aren’t paying attention to what’s on the screen anymore, instead exchanging lazy kisses. Louis’ lying on the couch with Harry laying in between his legs, kissing him deeply, but they don’t go any further. They stay just like that, lazing around for the day.

Harry doesn’t leave until after dinner; he cooks them some pasta and they drink  some red wine while they laugh as the conversation flows. It feels almost…normal.

From that day on, over the following months, they start spending the night with each other. They part ways when they have to work and when they have to travel, but somehow, in an unspoken way, the rule they agreed on when they started is now broken.

Whether Harry goes to Louis’ or Louis goes to Harry’s, they bring extra clothes because they know they are staying the night. Sometimes they even spend more than two days together. Things start getting domestic again. They lay around the house again, start enjoying meals together again, they cook together again (or Harry does as Louis watches, smiling).

Sometimes they meet and they don’t hook up at all. Sometimes they just curl around each other on the couch or bed and watch a movie or listen to music, wrapped in each other’s arms. Sometimes they just shower together, swapping lazy kisses without taking it any further.

One day Harry arrives at his home early in the morning. He lets himself in and Louis hears him before he feels him as he crawls into bed, letting Louis wrap himself around his warm, lanky body. Louis can tell he had an exhausting night, so he doesn’t talk, he just lets him be. Harry only speaks when he asks him to pet his hair, which Louis does happily. He tangles his fingers in Harry’s gorgeous hair and scratches his scalp. Harry falls asleep almost instantly, and Louis doesn’t dare move, in fear of waking him up. This happens more than once. Other days it’s him who curls into Harry and waits for him to wrap his arm around him, to soothe him. He just stays there, feeling Harry’s heartbeat under his cheek, telling himself he never wants this to end. This happens, for example, the day after Just Like You is out. Harry congratulates him and tells him he is very proud of him, and he also tells him he is sorry because he doesn’t deserve to feel that way. Harry gets where he’s coming from, he can feel the pain in his voice. So Louis lets Harry take care of him.

The thing is that when they have to part ways, reality always comes back to bite Louis in the ass - he remembers that this is no longer his reality, and it’s just a placebo effect that, one day, will come to an end.

 

* * *

 

They keep on doing the same thing for the rest of October. November is particular tough, while Harry is on tour, but they do their best to make it work.

Going back to work and spending weeks without seeing Harry at all burts the little bubble Louis had been living in over the last several months. He has to travel a lot for work, especially to LA, and this time, he’s not going to be seeing Harry. He won’t to be able to get away from it all - he won’t be able to get out of his head, like he does when he’s with Harry. This time, Harry is thousands of miles away on tour, and even if he is within a few hours distance, he’s touring, he’s working, so Louis can’t see him.

Louis goes back and forth to LA for more promo, but this time, Harry’s not there, so he really hates it. Stalkers find him, and he smiles and pretends everything is alright. When he’s finally back in London, he doesn’t want to go out into the real world, ever. He feels sad, defeated. It’s one of those days in which being alone just hurts so fucking much, one of those days in which he hates the world and wants to flip everybody off because he could’ve had his happy ending, but it was ripped from him. And Harry’s in Amsterdam, and Camille is probably there, watching him perform when he, Louis, should be there instead.

Louis stands up and walks to the closet in his room. He opens one of the drawers and takes out some white t-shirts, the ones that reaffirm to him that Two Ghosts is in fact about him, until he finds the purple Hollister hoodie he was looking for. It’s the one Harry used to wear when he was 17, and somehow, it still has a hint of Harry’s scent. Louis had refused to wash it after Harry sprayed some Cologne on it, so it always smelled like him. Louis sits on the bed, an ashtray and some liquor next to him, he brings the hoodie to his face, breathing it in.

Suddenly his phone rings and he sees Harry’s contact on his screen. It’s weird - he knows Harry’s in Amsterdam, which means he’s busy and most definitely shouldn’t be calling him. Louis puts down his cigarette before picking up.

“Hi, Lou, ” Harry says softly, and Louis’ stomach does a backflip at the old nickname.

“Hi, Harry.” His voice comes out a little flatter than he’d been hoping for, and he can almost see Harry’s eyebrows crunch together.

“How are you?”

“Why are you calling me, Harry?” Louis asks. It doesn’t come off as aggressive, or at least, he hopes not - he genuinely just wants to know.

“I was calling because I wanted to know how you are … wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Louis stays silent. Should he tell the truth and confess that he feels like shit, or should he lie? The cigarette he left on the ashtray is continuing to burn, and the smoke is covering the room in a haze.

“Everything’s really great, Harry,” he replies, wondering how he’s even going to make Harry believe him when he doesn’t believe himself. “Everything’s just fucking great. How are you?”

“Not so good,” Harry sighs. Louis feels like someone just punched him, but at least Harry’s being honest. Maybe one day he can be just as honest.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m sorry, too. Amsterdam just isn’t the same without you. It just doesn’t feel right.” Harry laughs, but the sound is empty. They stay on the line in silence, breathing into the phone without saying a word for a few minutes. Harry finally sighs. “Listen, Lou, I have to go ‘cause I have a show to do, yeah?”

 “Okay. Hope you smash it like you always do,” Louis says, realizing a second too late that he’s basically just told Harry he’s been watching live streams of him. He didn’t care.

“See you soon.”

“See you, Harry.”

Harry hangs up. Louis stares at the hoodie numbly, cigarette forgotten and tears pooling in his eyes. He lifts it up again and inhales before he starts to cry - he practically sobs into the soft material. He doesn’t know when he and Harry became two strangers - at least, that’s what it felt like to him. All they do now is just meet up to fuck because they’re not strong enough to stay away from each other. Even though they have been spending the night together, it’s not really the same thing.

Harry’s in Melbourne when Louis releases Miss You, which is inspired by him, of course. Harry calls him to tell him that he loved the song and that he’s sorry about everything.

December is particularly difficult for him. He releases the Miss You music video. The video itself was really fun to film, even though Stan couldn’t be in it, but the rest of the month doesn’t go the way he wanted it to. He has to be papped with Freddie, that poor baby, once again, which means he has to meet with Briana, which he hates, and if that weren’t enough, his team makes him go to Amsterdam with Eleanor. Again. Fucking great way to spend the week before his birthday. Harry doesn’t text him, and Louis knows Harry’s probably angry, but he thinks he would rather have Harry angry texting him than Harry not texting at all. He tries to ignore the pain he feels as the days without a message from Harry start to add up, but he can’t.

Luckily enough, they let him go back to his family for the 24th, which means he gets to spend his birthday with his family. Lottie and Tommy come to fetch him from the airport, and just being with them feels like home already. When he walks through the door, Phoebe and Daisy run to him for hugs, and he holds them both tightly, smiling hard as they tell him they have missed him. Fizzy cuts in for a hug of her own, and when Louis gets to the living room to say hi to Ernie and Doris, he sees them both on Harry’s lap, happily talking to him about something.

Louis freezes on the spot. Harry’s here, with his family, playing with his baby siblings. Harry looks up to see him, quickly shuffling the twins out of his lap so he can stand up.

“Happy birthday, Lou,” Harry says, hugging him tightly. Louis breathes in, taking in his scent, smelling his Tom Ford Tobacco Vanilla cologne, and hugs him back, ignoring the way his siblings stare at them both.

They spend all day just playing games and having fun together. His siblings know that Harry and Louis are no longer together, but he’s happy that they don’t ask any questions. They just spend their day like a family, and it really feels like it nothing had changed at all, which makes Louis feel a bit overwhelmed.

Harry stays the night too, waiting until they are alone to give him his present - a Gucci Hoodie, which Louis loves very much and had been talking about. Before going to sleep, they kiss each other for hours, until their lips go numb and they fall under Morpheus’ charm, wrapped in each other’s arms.

The next day, Harry has to leave early to get back to Cheshire to spend Christmas with his family. He doesn’t leave, however, before kissing Louis goodbye and wishing him and his entire family a Merry Christmas.

 

* * *

 

It’s has been two days since his birthday, and they have spent all day together in Harry’s apartment, but this time, it isn’t fulfilling Louis. All he can think about is how happy he felt on his birthday when Harry spent the day with him and his family in Doncaster. All he can think about is how complete he felt when, even if it was just for one day, they forgot that they are not actually together. Harry knows him, he can tell when things are off. When he asks him what happened, Louis just hides his head between his legs, not wanting to talk. Talking about this means this, what they have, what they’re doing, may come to an end, and he doesn’t want this to end. He just doesn’t.

“Lou, babe, what’s wrong?” Harry asks again, softer this time. Louis shakes his head. He can’t ruin this - even if their situation isn’t ideal, he isn’t ready to give it up. “Lou, you can tell me, c’mon.” Harry’s voice is insistent, and Louis can’t ignore it. He smiles sadly, raising his eyebrows as he looks at Harry.

“What are we doing, Harry? What are we playing at?” Louis sighs, looking away from Harry, because he can’t stand to see the look on his face - honestly, they’ve been acting like they’re boyfriends, doing the whole relationship shit without labels, but what even are they? Is not that he cares about the title per se, it’s just that he doesn’t get where they’re at, what they’re doing. 

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles. 

“Fuck, indeed.” Louis agrees, and he waits for Harry to say something. The silence eats at him, making him antsy, and his fingers automatically start twisting in his lap.

“I think…I think we should stop this,” Harry lets out after a moment. And there it is. This is what Louis’ been afraid to hear for months and where he didn’t want to get to when Harry asked him what was wrong, because he knows that his little happy bubble is about to burst. “We’re only hurting each other.” Harry wipes away a tear that had escaped his left eye.

Louis stays quiet for a second, because he’s unable to speak, he doesn’t really want to speak, if he’s being honest, but he nods quietly.

Louis chuckles and sighs, and once he does find the strength to talk, he can’t believe he’s actually going to say what he’s about to. “Yeah, you’re right. We should probably stop it.” There is another moment of silence, and it’s killing him.

“I love you, Lou. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, and I don’t think I’m going to love anyone, ever, as much as I love you …” Harry breathes, and Louis wants him to stop, he just wants him to stop talking, even if the silence is unbearable. He just wants the whole world to stop fucking with him, “But we are hurting each other. I’m _hurting_ you, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“Fuck,” Louis laughs through his tears, which he wasn’t even aware of until that moment. “We are hurting each other, aren’t we?” Silence. “I’m hurting you, too.”

“With Camille and Eleanor and Freddie all still in the picture, it’s just too messy, Louis, and we’re not even anything anymore.” Louis wants to answer that they are a thing, that they have always been a thing, but Harry keeps speaking before he can. “This only brings the worst out in us. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Louis nods, and they stay there, not speaking. Louis just rubs his eyes because he doesn’t know what else to say. After what seems like hours to him, he decides he needs to leave, so they can keep moving on with their lives. He stands up to hug Harry goodbye, ready to be the strong one, ready to walk out the door and leave and stop messing things up.

They hug for a long time, not a single word coming out of their mouths. He tries to focus on Harry’s natural scent, at the way he’s breathing, at how smooth his cheek feels against his own. When they break the hug ,they stand there looking at each other, and Louis can sees that Harry’s crying too.

“Goodbye my Hazza” he whispers.

Harry doesn’t waste another second before crushing his mouth onto Louis’, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him with desperation. Louis kisses him back, wrapping his arms around his neck so he can be as close to Harry as it is possible to be, lining up their chests.

The next thing he knows, he’s being lifted up, and he’s curling his legs around Harry’s body like a koala. Harry is sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, slipping his tongue inside Louis’ waiting mouth. Harry grips his thighs as he carries him towards the bedroom. Louis starts pulling at the hem of Harry’s shirt with needy hands, trying to feel the soft skin of his torso, trying to feel the heat of his body, attempting to undress him as they make their way into the room.

When Harry drops Louis on to his bed, he quickly starts to undress, as if every second his lips aren’t on Louis’ is time wasted. Harry is quick to get to what he wants this time - no working up to it, no lazy kisses or worshiping Louis’ body, but when he starts to open him up, he does it slower than he has ever done. He takes his time to fill him up with his fingers, one by one until he has three fingers inside, until he’s hitting Louis’ prostate with every thrust of his hand. As Harry does this, he takes Louis in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip of his dick, which makes Louis arch his back as he presses his head down against the pillow, eyes screwed shut. Everything is just too much. Harry is just too much.

When Harry finishes opening him up, he moves some pillows on the bed and relocates to the top of the bed, resting his back against them, he pours a generous amount of lube on his hand and starts to work his length with it. He reaches out his other hand to Louis, beckoning him, and Louis settles in Harry’s lap, thighs straddling around Harry’s waist. 

Louis seals their lips in another heated kiss, pushing Harry’s hand out of the way and sinking right down onto Harry’s cock. They moan into each other’s mouths. Louis starts rocking his hips, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry is running his hands all across Louis’ back, trying to touch as much skin as possible. Everything feels so hot and heavy - it’s overwhelming. The air in the room, their breath, their sweat, it’s all so much at once. Harry thrusts his hips up and Louis whimpers out loud. He can already feel his fringe sticking to his forehead sweat sliding down his back. The tension is way too much already -   he and Harry are not even properly kissing anymore, they’re just mouthing against each other, and Louis feels the orgasm building up in his body. Harry comes with a moan and quickly wraps his hand around Louis’ cock to stroke it and make him come too, and as he comes, he realizes both of them have tears streaming down their faces. Both of them are crying.

Harry watches Louis dress in silence. When he’s finished, he waits for Harry to lead him to the front door. Harry’s still naked, of course he is, and he hates thinking that this is the last time he may see him for a very long time.

“Well…bye, then, Haz,” he says, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but Harry moves his face and captures his lips with his own in a painfully slow kiss. Their last kiss.

Louis tries not to break into tears as he leaves Harry’s house. He tries to ignore Harry’s sobs as well. He tries to ignore the hole he has in his chest that’s threatening him to eat him alive.

 

* * *

 

Hours turn into days, and days turn into a week that is almost unbearable for Louis. He makes the effort to go out for New Year’s Eve with his friends, but it feels all wrong because he’s not there with Harry, because he is not kissing him when the clock strikes 12. It’s then when he realizes he doesn’t want to spend another New Year without him. It’s then when he realizes he doesn’t want to give up what he has with Harry, and that he has to fight tooth and nail to save it, because he won’t just let go one of the best things that ever happened him. He won’t just let Harry go.

It’s then that he decides he needs to do something about it and not just keep moping around. He knows he needs to contact Harry, but he’s too nervous to ask Harry to meet on the off chance that Harry may reject the idea. Eventually, though, he texts Harry to let him know that he’s coming over in an hour and then puts his phone on silent.

He knows this may be useless, but he knows needs to try. This might be his last chance, his only chance, to save this. He showers quickly and arranges himself as best as he can. During the whole drive to Harry’s house, he can feel his heart beating in his throat. He even thinks he may start to hyperventilate if he doesn’t get his breath under control.

The drive seems quicker this time, and suddenly he’s inside Harry’s house, facing him, and Harry looks just as destroyed as he is. Then it hits him, everything hits him all over again, and he starts sobbing like he has been doing the past few months, but this time it’s not sadness. This time, it’s desperation.

“Lou…” Harry whispers, and Louis sucks in a breath, trying to get ahold of himself. Louis was never afraid or ashamed of crying in front of Harry, and this time is no different, but he has so many things he wants to say and he can’t say them when he’s crying. He just stares at him, tears streaming down his face, trying to speak, but his throat is burning. Harry looks at him, his glassy green eyes staring at him sadly, and he lets a tear slip down his cheek.

“I need-I need to believe we can make it, Haz,” he finally manages to say,his  voice broken. “I need to believe our love is enough and that we can have our happy ending.”

“Lou …” Harry chokes, wiping at his eyes. “You - you know I love you, but we wouldn’t be happy, not when we’re spending nearly every waking moment arguing with each other.”

“Wouldn’t we?” Louis laughs wetly, knowing that wiping his tears won’t do him any good. “Cause all I know is that I’m miserable without you, that the only time in which I can forget about all the pain is when I’m with you, even if it’s just for a few hours. And I know you feel the same way Harry, I know it.” 

“But Lou, it’s an illusion. All we’ve done for the past couple of years is hurt each other. Are you really going to tell me you’re happy like this?” he asks, gripping his own hair. “That you’re happy with whatever the fuck we’ve been doing for the past year?” 

“No, I’m not happy. I’m not happy because it’s not enough. I’m not happy because I want more than just fucking like two lovers. I … I want everything with you.” Louis chokes out a humourless laugh, and Harry watches him, tears still running down his cheeks. “Having sex, falling asleep and waking up by your side, having breakfast together, watching a movie as we cuddle, just being lazy with you. I just want us to be Haz and Lou again, to be a proper couple.” 

“I don’t know if that’s possible and I-” he dries a tear off of his face and closes his eyes, his voice sounding stuck in his throat. “I’ve already told you, Lou. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. You deserve better.” 

“But I don’t want better, Harry, that’s the problem! I want you, _you_. Not anyone else, just you. I will always want you for the rest of my life. And the thing is, I don’t even want to love another person. I’m not interested in moving on when we can still fix our fucking shit.” His voice rises, not quite yelling, but not just speaking either. He needs Harry to hear him. “Yes, I can live without you, but I don’t want to, okay? I don’t want to, nor will I ever." Louis is properly crying now, hiccups interrupting his attempts to keep speaking. “Are you ready to give up on us after everything we’ve been through?” he asks in a very vulnerable voice, and Harry lifts up his hand to caress his cheek.

“You know I’m not,”  Harry replies, his voice strained, and Louis leans into the touch, closing his eyes and putting his hand on top of Harry’s.

“Then let’s save this,” he opens his eyes, tears hanging from his eyelashes. “Let’s find a way and work this out, because I - I’m not ready to give this up either.” He takes a step closer and leans his head against Harry’s chest, "You always say in your songs how we don’t talk enough. Let’s change that, because I’m not giving up on us.”

Harry grabs Louis’ face and lifts it up to stare at him, stroking at his cheekbones, wiping his tears, even with a wet face of his own. Then he leans down, pressing his forehead against his, and he just stays there. Louis can breathe better - he can’t recall the last time he felt Harry so close. He can’t recall the last time he felt Harry so close not only in body, but in heart and soul. He can feel Harry’s breath against his face and he can listen to his pulse. He wants to do this forever, for this moment to never end.

“Please…” Louis breathes, and then Harry kisses him softly, just lips moving gently against each other.

“I won’t give up on us either.” he whispers against his lips.

 

* * *

 

It’s Valentine’s day and they’re spending it together after a few days out of the public eye. They actually turned down a lot of plans because they wanted to celebrate the day with just each other. They figured it was just what they needed to get their relationship back on track. They are in their flat in London, watching a movie after a wonderful dinner Harry cooked for them.

 Louis leans over to check his phone just as it lights up with a notification. He unlocks it and opens IG, and when he sees what it is, he curses. Eleanor just posted a pic of him with the caption “#myboyfriendisfitterthanyours”. What the fuck?  She hadn’t even taken that photo. He is so fucking embarrassed - he wants to hide his head in a hole.

“What happened?” Harry asks, and Louis starts - he hadn’t even realized he said anything out loud. Louis stands up, rubbing a hand over his face, and hands Harry his phone, and for a moment, he’s afraid that Harry will snap. Harry, however, stares at the screen, takes a moment to read it, and then bursts out laughing. His head is thrown back, mouth wide open, cackling in the way that Louis loves so much.

“What the fuck?” Louis asks, staring at him in complete confusion.

“My boyfriend is fitter than yours?” he asks, still laughing and wiping tears of laugher away from his eyes. And then Louis starts laughing, too, because he can’t not not laugh when Harry does, because Harry’s laugh is one of his favorite sounds in the world. “And just when I thought she couldn’t get pettier.”

“Stop it, Harry, it’s not funny,” Louis says, trying to put on a serious face, but it’s impossible when the situation is way too ridiculous. And honestly, the he is so relieved Harry is taking this with humor rather than being angry, because he wouldn’t blame him if he got angry at the situation 

“It is, and I bet you all our fans are cackling as well,” he smirks and stands, grabbing him by the hips. Louis stares at him and looks at the way Harry stops laughing little by little. He’s not angry now, no. But his pupils are blown and his eyes look almost black now, their green irises so thin it’s almost imperceptible. He knows Harry way too well not to realize what’s happening. “You don’t belong to Eleanor, now do ya, Lou? She’s just putting that ridiculous and lame caption when she knows you’re not her boyfriend,” Harry tells him, slowly, darkly.

“No. I don’t,” Louis gasps, feeling Harry’s fingers digging into the flesh of his waist a little.

“Uh-huh,” Harry licks his lips. “And who do you belong to, then, Louis? Who is your boyfriend?” Harry’s voice is turning him on so much, the way he speaks all sure of himself, the way he’s grabbing him by the hips and pulling him forward, making his hips rock against Harry’s thighs.

“Just you, Haz. I promise, just you.”

Harry stares at him and nods slowly, licking his lips. “Yeah, that’s right, baby, just me. Just like I only belong to you, am I right? You know I’m yours and yours only, don’t you?” he says, and it’s not a question. Louis nods fiercely.

“Yeah, I do know, Haz. You’re mine and mine alone.”

“And how are you going to prove it to me?” Harry asks.

Louis stands on the balls of his feet and kisses him, running his tongue over his bottom lip, asking for permission to lick inside and mewling into the kiss when Harry grips  his hips, pressing his thumbs against his hip bones. Louis moans when Harry slips his hands back to grab him by the arse.

“Yeah, baby, kiss me,” Harry slurs into Louis’ mouth, and Louis nothing more than to do just that.

They stumble backwards a few steps and fall back onto the couch. Harry sits down and pulls Louis into his lap to straddle him. Louis grinds his hips down, rubbing their clothed cocks together and making Harry hiss. Louis has always loved teasing Harry, so he continues to grind until Harry can’t take it anymore. Harry stands up with Louis in his arms and carries him to their bedroom. Louis ends up riding him, pressing his hands down on Harry’s chest to find stability, and when he comes after him, he collapses on top of his body and they both stay there, sticky and sweaty. They lay there until they both gather enough strength to take a shower together and clean themselves up.

He sighs happily when Harry hugs him under the water and runs his hands across his back. He buries his head in Harry’s neck and bites at his skin, licking it to form a bruise. They stay there, hugging one another until the water runs cold.

They’re both in bed, smoking weed, when they exchange Valentines presents. Louis gives Harry a bracelet he saw that reminded him instantly of his dorkness. Harry smiles widely and kisses him, smiling against his lips. 

“I have something for you, too,” he says, pulling out a small box and handing it over. Louis opens it to discover a simple ring, and his heart swells. And he knows Harry knows he doesn’t really wear rings, more so because his team wouldn’t let him in a million years, but the ring means so much to him  that he can’t help but hug him tightly, smiling with crinkles by his eyes.

“You’re amazing.”

“Is that so?” Harry asks, voice deep and raspy.

“You know you are,” he says, placing the joint between his lips. Louis rolls and manages to straddle Harry’s hips, smirking. “Fuck," Louis breathes. “Fuck, Haz,” he repeats, running his hands over Harry’s chest. “Do you know how hot you are?”

 “I don't know, you tell me,” Harry teases.

Louis takes another drag of the joint. “Open your mouth." 

Harry obeys and Louis leans down, exhaling the smoke through his lips. Harry inhales it, and when Louis is back in his position, he lets it out, smirking. They do another shotgun, finishing the joint in between giggles.

“So hot,” he whispers one last time against his lips, feeling Harry’s smirk against his mouth.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better Valentine’s”, Harry whispers into Louis’ ear as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Neither could I,” Louis replies, kissing him again.

 

* * *

 

More than two months have gone by since the day they had that talk, and Louis can honestly say that they really are working on their relationship. They still argue from time to time, especially when it comes to stunts, but they’re much better than before, and they’re happy together again.

Louis can hear the crowd roaring when Harry takes the stage. Louis did go to a few of Harry’s concerts last year during his tour, concerts that ended with them shagging after. This time is different though - this is the first he’s there as his boyfriend. This time is even more special, because Harry is going to sing “If I Could Fly” live and solo. This time is different because the concert’s in Amsterdam, a city that was always meaningful to both of them. Louis makes sure he’s standing in a place no one in the crowd can see him except  Harry.

Harry starts with Only Angel, and the crowd goes wild. He jams with the rocky songs, he gets emotional with the slow ones, and he kinda gets hard with Medicine. Harry looks cocky, and he sings the song with much more strength than the first time he sang it. Louis can’t believe that Harry actually wrote a song about sucking his dick. He can’t help but laugh at how smug he looks when he sees the crowd is actually learning the lyrics without having the official version.

When Harry goes to stage B, Louis’ heart jumps in his chest. He starts tearing up a bit as Harry sings Sweet Creature, as he realizes how meaningful the lyrics are, especially now that they found their way back together. He knows that Harry means every word. He knows that he is, in fact, Harry’s sweet creature, and it warms his heart. He really breaks down crying, an emotional mess, when Harry grabs a rainbow flag that says, “Always You”, the song he wrote about being alone in Amsterdam without him, and starts singing “If I Could Fly”. They aren’t tears of sadness, however, but tears of love and happiness. Louis cried the first time he heard the song, and Louis is crying now as he watches Harry for the first time singing this song live in person. Louis knows Harry took a long pause the first two times before singing his solo. This time, however, he keeps on singing, and he knows it’s because he’s there with him. Harry looks happy, genuinely happy, and he feels that happiness in himself. When the concert is finished, and Harry comes backstage, Louis is waiting for him with open arms, and Harry runs into them, kissing him passionately as he lifts him up.

“You were amazing, Haz, I’m so proud of you,” Louis whispers against his lips. Harry breaks the kiss and looks at him, smiling.

“Did you like it?” Harry asks, bright eyes, before kissing the tip of his nose. 

“I loved it!” Louis replies, making Harry smile even harder.

Harry leans into his ear and says, “Could we ever be enough?” Louis feels warm, because just like how he sang If I Could Fly in public, now he is appealing to its answer, but in private. So he hugs him back and kisses him again, whispering against his mouth, “Baby, we could be enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so first things first! The epigraph of the fic, the song, is [Not Strong Enough To Stay Away by Apocalyptica](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5O90uzvUA4). You should really give it a listen because it's a GREAT song.  
> Now, the scene where Harry calls Louis from Amsterdam, and Louis is holding his purple Hollister hoodie was inspired by [this](https://accio-slash.tumblr.com/post/169003328346/perfectdagger-and-it-hits-me-when-the-lights-go) fanart. Go check the artist work, what she does is amazing.  
> I wanted to be really accurate with dates and stuff so I used [this](http://zapboobear.tumblr.com/post/171410503020/2018-timelines) post over here to respect the timeline.  
> Having said all this, I know the fic is really short, but what did you think about it? Did you like it? Please, if you did, don't forget on leaving kudos or comments, you don't even know how much this would mean for me. I hope you did like it, and if you did you can also check my other fics or you can hit me up on twitter @RopeAndAnchorLS!


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